While Rolling Stone magazine waxes poetically over the tragic downfall of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the victims from the Boston Marathon bombing continue to heal. Families that lost loved ones — like the relatives of Martin Richard, the 8-year-old boy who will never have the chance to celebrate 9, or the Campbell family, which was planning a 30th birthday party for beloved Krystle — are forced to exist for the rest of their lives missing an integral piece of their hearts.
Paul Norden waved a Boston strong flag alongside his brother, J.P., as the two Boston Marathon bombing survivors were honored before a Bruins playoff game in May. (AP)
Janet Reitman’s story from the Aug. 1 edition of Rolling Stone attempts to humanize an alleged murderer, detailing the process of how a seemingly normal person becomes a terrorist. Though Reitman was able to detail Tsarnaev’s smooth ways with his female classmates in high school, a glaring absence in the story is any mention of the victims. In addition to an outrageously callous cover designed solely to sell magazines, Reitman’s story neglected to express any sorrow for the victims and their families that still suffer — with burns, broken hearts and lost limbs — as a direct result of the brutality allegedly caused by the subject of her very story.
The Bruins were the first team to play in Boston after the city ceased its lockdown. A matinee hockey game with the Penguins ensued on Saturday, April 20, mere hours after the suspect was captured by another set of heroes. Thanks to the work of the Watertown Police Department, also conspicuous by their absence in the Rolling Stone story, Tsarnaev was unable to cause any more carnage. From the moment the puck dropped at the Garden, Boston’s professional hockey team captured the hearts of this city and, in its own way, helped the victims feel whole again.
Jarrod Clowery, a 35-year-old who watched the Marathon with a group of friends from Stoneham, had his hands and legs burned and, in some places, even shredded at the hands of the Marathon bombers’ madness. During his still-ongoing recovery process, the first time he felt like himself took place at a Bruins game.
“I had the chance to be flag captain in Game 7 against Toronto,” said Clowery. “We watched in the Heineken board room but we went out in the stands after the third [Bruins] goal. I was actually just fresh out of the hospital, so I had a tough time that night. But the whole overtime, I was normal. It was like I never was involved in a bombing. I was out with all the other fans in the stands and my adrenaline was pumping. Who cares if they lost the Cup? You can be proud to be a Bruins fan.”
Unlike many of his friends, Clowery is fortunate not to have lost any limbs during the explosion. Friends from Stoneham — Marc Fucarile and brothers J.P. and Paul Norden — lost limbs. Fucarile, who has been through 15 visits to the operating room and nearly 50 operations, had his right knee amputated above the knee. He also suffered first-, second- and third-degree burns over half his body, as well as two fractures in his left leg. Shrapnel from the bomb literally littered his body. The Norden brothers each lost a leg in the bombing. Their bodies also were ravaged by burns and shrapnel.
“I was hopping the railing when I heard the first bomb go off,” Clowery recalled. “I told everybody, ‘Get in the street, get in the street!’ I was three feet from the bomb. The bomb blew under me, filling me from my ass to my ankles in shrapnel but, obviously, leaving me whole. The others were still flat-footed on the ground. That’s why they took the brunt of the damage. But let me tell you something: My friends Marc, J.P., and Paul are pretty big guys. They saved people’s lives by taking that blast. And now they need help.”